The Thief and the Squire
by Dumbledore'sDragon
Summary: One-shot set pre-series. Uther doesn't think that fighting is an appropriate activity for a young lady, but Morgana disagrees. And she has never been one to let things lie...


Morgana had only been in Camelot for a fortnight when she first expressed her desire to fight with Arthur and the other boys.

Uther explained to her that girls did not fight. They were not strong enough, he said. They didn't have a man's courage, or tactical mind. Their hearts were too soft to kill a man and watch him die in front of them.

Morgana had pressed her lips together and narrowed her eyes in distaste.  
"Strength isn't everything!" She had argued. "Agility and speed are just as important."  
But the King had just smiled, shaken his head and said in a kindly tone, "Delicate ladies are better suited to embroidery and light riding. I will ask Arthur to accompany you if you wish to go tomorrow."

Morgana curtsied as gracefully as she could, and left, resolving to find some way to continue her training. She didn't understand. Her father had let her fight, so why wouldn't Uther?

The idea struck her as she rounded the corner. Quite literally. She was so deep in though that she wasn't really looking where she was going. All at once she was crashing to the floor.

Morgana looked up, slightly dazed, to see Edric. He was one of the new squires, a shy boy barely older than her.  
He rubbed his nose sheepishly. "S-s- sorry, m-my lady." He stammered, scrambling to his feet and hurriedly gathering the armour he had dropped. "W-wasn't watching where I w-was going."

"Really, it's fine." She smiled as graciously as possible. She looked at him closely, the perfect idea forming in her head. Edric was about her height, wasn't he? And the colour of her hair was nearly identical to the shock of unruly black curls that hung almost to his shoulders.

"Actually, Edric, I was just coming to find you." Morgana began, in the most girlish voice she could achieve. "You see, there's an awfully large spider in my chambers. I'm not brave enough to go anywhere near it, but you're a squire. Almost a knight, really."

Edric's cheeks flushed at the obvious praise. He instantly attempted to stand taller.  
"I bet you're not scared of them, are you?" She finished, sure that he would fall for the bait.

In truth, Edric _was_ scared, but he had forgotten every word of that with the help of Morgana's flattery.  
"Of c-course not." He boasted.  
"Oh, that's perfect! Could you get it out for me? It won't take a moment." And with that she picked up the remaining pieces of armour and led the way to her room, Edric following like an obedient puppy.

As she knew from what he was carrying, Edric was heading to his daily training with the knights. She hurried down the corridors and pushed open the heavy wooden door that led to her bedchamber.

"It's just through that door," She explained, pointing to an antechamber with an anxious look on her face. "You can leave the things here, though. Then they won't bother you." She smiled innocently.

Edric dumped the armour on a wooden chest, relieved. He drew in a breath and walked determinedly into the next room.

The second he was inside, Morgana darted out and shut the door. She had already turned the key in the lock before Edric realised what was happening.

"H-h-hello? Lady M-morgana?" His voice sounded pathetically whiny to Morgana's ears. "W-what are y-you doing? Let m-me out!"

Morgana grinned triumphantly. She stuffed the key in the lining of a ghastly salmon-pink satin dress a great-aunt had bought her several years ago. In truth, she was not sure why it had been bought to Camelot, but as it was so horrible, no-one was likely to go rummaging around in it.

She dressed quickly in a soft spun white tunic and the breeches, before winding her hair deftly into a bun away from her face. She put the light practice armour on, too, including the helmet, and sheathed the sword. She knew she would look silly, walking through the castle to the practice grounds already wearing it, but she couldn't risk anyone knowing it was her. At least not before she'd had some fun, and proved to her single-minded guardian that she was just as good as any boy.

Morgana arrived at the practice ground to see Arthur already there. He was showing off to his friends. Secretly, she admired his skill with a sword; he was easily better than any other boy in Camelot. Not that she'd ever tell him. Arthur was already far too big for his boots. And she was determined to be the one to take him down a peg or two.

"Edric?" Arthur called, stopping his display as he noticed Morgana nearing. "Is that you? It took you long enough to get ready. I suppose that's just another of the disadvantages of being a big girl, isn't it?

His cronies all laughed coarsely. It wasn't even funny, and Morgana had just opened her mouth to tell them so when she remembered who she was supposed to be. Edric wasn't even brave enough to _speak_ to Arthur most of the time, let alone disagree with something he said. So she kept her mouth shut and dropped her shoulders submissively as she walked across to wait her turn at sparring. She felt a little guilty now, for locking Edric in the little antechamber. He was obviously bullied relentlessly by Arthur for his lack of courage and dislike of fighting, and now she had been just as bad by tricking him. She would have to make it up to him later.

"How about a spar, Edric?" Arthur twirled his sword impatiently, in what he obviously thought was an impressive show of skill. "Or shall I go and get your nurse to come and take you back to the castle until you've grown up a bit?"

Morgana's stomach flipped. She couldn't wait to test her skills again. She drew her sword, trying to seem reluctant. This plan would only work if everyone still thought she was Edric. Otherwise, Arthur would never agree to fight her.

She balanced the sword carefully in her hand, trying to get the feel of it. It was excellent craftsmanship, light enough that she could manage it easily, but powerful, too. She wondered where Edric had got it from. It was similar to the sword she had used with her father, and she would have liked another to use here if she could find someone to make one for her. She pulled her thoughts back to the matter in hand, and slid her feet into the familliar fighting stance.

Arthur attacked first. Slashing viciously downwards, Morgana was forced to jump back, unprepared after her weeks of idleness.

"Not even going to defend yourself today?" Arthur taunted. He continued his advance, driving her backwards until she felt the wood of the arena wall against her tunic. He came down again, hard from above, but Morgana was ready for him. She ducked to the right, quickly, evading the blade as it came whistling down past her left ear.

_Thud. _Splinters flew as the metal bit into the wood. Arthur was able to pull it out with ease; it was too much to hope that it would get stuck, but those few seconds gave Morgana all the time she needed. The tables had turned. It was the smaller figure, now, who was on the attack. The moves were quick. Arthur may have brute strength, but Morgana was quicker, more agile. Her sword was singing in her hand, and she realised how much she had missed this. She never felt as alive as when she was fighting.

Uther watched his son from the window. The King was pleased; Arthur was fighting well, defending strongly despite the relentless attacks from his partner. But he couldn't put his finger on who the other child was. Surely it wasn't Lord Ellingsby's son. The boy was a coward. He could barely lift a sword, let alone fight with it. But there were no other boys Arthur's age in Camelot.

Thoroughly puzzled, he waited to see how the fight unfolded. Arthur was tiring, it was obvious. His defences were weaker than they had been even moments before, and his opponent's lightning-quick swipes nicked his arms more than once. One last jab and he was crashing gracelessly into the earth, a sword at his throat.

"Yield." Morgana said breathlessly, lowering her voice as much as possible. Her hand shook with the adrenaline flooding her veins and the feeling of triumph.

Arthur gritted his teeth. "I yield." He uttered the words reluctantly, and accepted the gloved hand held out to him to help him to his feet. Never had he been so embarrassed. Edric was a wimp! How could he suddenly be so quick, so skilled with a sword? He glanced up at the tower window. Yes, his father was watching, too. Could this get any worse?

Apparently it could, because at that moment Morgana's nurse came running out of the castle, followed by a distressed-looking Edric.

Arthur was confused. He looked between the boy he had just fought and the one hurrying across the grass. So it wasn't Edric after all. So who had he been fighting?

Morgana swallowed. Oops. She knew she was in trouble now. There was nothing for it but to own up and face whatever punishment came her way. She sheathed the sword and pulled off the helmet.

"Morgana!" Arthur's face at that moment was worth any punishment. The realisation that he had just been beaten in a sword fight by a _girl_ caught his expression in a mixture of outrage and dismay.

Ten minutes later, the four of them: Morgana, her nurse, Arthur, and Edric were standing in front of the King. Although Morgana would have owned up immediately, Uther insisted on hearing the morning's events from Morgana's nurse who, in his eyes, was the only one responsible enough to give the truth.

The woman explained calmly and clearly how she had gone into Morgana's chambers to wake the lady up, thinking that she had just slept longer than usual, but had instead heard a panicked voice from inside the cupboard. Morgana was nowhere to be found.

She had opened the cupboard to find Edric, spouting some incoherent nonsense about how there was no spider after all. After extracting the story from a stammering Edric, they had discovered that his armour was missing.

Morgana's nurse, who had never lacked wits, had put two and two together and marched down the the training ground, where she found her young charge with a sword to the Prince's throat.

After listening to the tale, Uther had turned to his ward. "Is this true, Morgana?"

Morgana met the King's stern gaze evenly. "Yes, my lord. I took Edric's armour. I'm sorry I had to lock him up, but it was the only way I could show you that you're wrong."

Uther looked intently at the little girl before him. She was the spit and image of her father, he had seen that the second he set eyes on her, but never before had he imaged just how similar their temperaments would be. She was intelligent, blunt and determined to a fault. Oh, yes, she was Gorlois's daughter alright. And he couldn't help but admire her.

"And why was I wrong?" He asked, curious.

"You said girls couldn't fight. I'm a girl, and I beat your son."

Uther smiled. "You did. And for that I will retract my original statement. If you wish to train here, as you did in Cornwall, I'm sure Sir Cadogan will be more than happy to accommodate you."

Morgana beamed.

"But Morgana," Uther continued warningly, "You should know that I do not tolerate stealing. You will apologise to Edric, and if I ever hear that you have done something like this again, you have my word that you will be punished severely."

Morgana nodded soberly. She apologised sincerely to Edric, who forgave her immediately, and even asked her to teach him some of the tricks she had used to beat Arthur. She smiled, feeling a rush of sympathy and warmth for the weak, bullied boy. She was not naive enough to believe that the hole in her chest left by her father's death would ever truly disappear, but for the moment she had found something to take her mind from it, if only temporarily.


End file.
